Vaas: A Fall to Darkness
by JJZ-109
Summary: Hello internet peoples! Personally I think you should be outside in the sunshine instead of reading this junk, but since you are still here...Welcome to my story. I wasn't always a murderous psycho. I wasn't always 'Vaas' as you know him. I'm a man, not a monster. Follow me on my journey from honorable warrior to scarred warlord consumed by insanity. Far Cry 3 Prequel!
1. Prologue: Letter from a Psychopath

**Alright people, I have played Far Cry 3 since the first day it was released. It has since become my favorite game of all time. And given me a new favorite villain. Ever since I saw Vaas, I was in awe. His performance was brilliant, and such an evil character was so charismatic it fascinated me. But as we may have guessed, there is more to him than meets the eye. And I have finally decided to write his story. Starting from when he and Citra were kids. Hopefully I can show you a new side to his character, one that was buried long before Jason and co arrived.**

**Cheers: JJZ-109**

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**PROLOGUE: LETTER FROM A PSYCHOPATH**

_4/12/2012_

_Hello sister, I know this letter will probably never get to you but maybe that thought can help you appreciate it a bit more, knowing that as I die, I have given the two fucks to write this thing. Despite all the bullshit that has happened between us._

_By now you would have heard the marvelous news, your big brother is dead! Isn't that just fucking great? You've achieved all that you were dedicated to, with the help of that Snow White American motherfucker Jason. I'll give it to you Citra, you made a warrior out of him; that scruffy high school dropout. How? I don't know, and I'm not going to waste my last thoughts on it. But I hope you enjoyed his company, as you once enjoyed mine._

_I don't want to write you a whole fucking history lesson, because the last time we spoke it ended in one of us (or both, I don't know) being changed forever. But the thing is...one of us may have looked like he changed, but he didn't. Outside, he was 'Vaas'. But way deep down in his fucking heart, he was still your brother. But to you...the brother was dead._

_Our father said he loved us both, but bullshit aside sister, we both know he favored you. I dedicated my life to the Rakyat. All I ever dreamed about was leading the warriors out of the temple, with you by my side. I was a good boy, Citra. But now all your hatred and dark thoughts would have clouded those memories, huh? Remember the time when we rode the Kayak of that waterfall, when we raided the Amanaki general store's desert cupboard, or accidentally found out that old Japanese Zero still worked? We had a lot of fun together; father could hardly contain the mischief. We were a real brother and sister. And what are we now?_

_The first time I killed, it was for you Citra. I knew father was going to choose you, so I did everything in my power to stay close to you. So that you may share the leadership as I had planned to do with you. But as you knew...shit changed. Shit happened, that you may know about. I'll never forgive our father, and the Rakyat will never forgive me. I was ruined. Around this time people started showing up at the island. I had no idea what they were doing at first, but it dawned on me. A good friend of mine turned out to be a monster. You know that monster as well as I, but then he offered me what you, our father, and the whole fucking Rakyat denied me. He offered me respect. He said with his help, I would forget about everything the tribe had ever done to me. That's when I found drugs. They helped me forget. They flushed the pain._

_Then you try to get me back into the tribe; a work I never respected until now, Citra. I was angered at the time. I couldn't believe you were going to have me make that fucking choice. Them...or you? THEM OR YOU! I hadn't forgotten what the Rakyat did to me. I wasn't going to return to the hatred. I chose Hoyt's business. I meant something to them, I led with pride. _

_During that time, I started to slip into darkness. Our forces grew stronger, and I grew crueler. The first Rakyat warrior I killed gave me such a feeling of joy and victory that I couldn't stop. I became cruel, and insane. _

_I learned from this book by, Einstein I think his name is? That the definition of insanity was doing the exact same, fucking thing over and over again...expecting shit to change. Expecting a different outcome. I killed warrior after warrior, took dose after dose...expecting myself to forget. Expecting things to go back the way they were meant to be. Now I realize I am that definition. Then began the war. I promised myself I would extinguish the memory, by erasing the Rakyat memory completely. Now I realize I am a monster. I am worse than anything described in our legends. Why? Because I am real. _

_By this time, your brother was pretty much dead. Vaas Montenegro was born. He could never see it at the time, but you...with your pure eyes, could see what I had become. You tried to stop me. I still meant something to you. And you still meant something to me, which is why I couldn't bring myself to kill you. And why you couldn't kill me. When you looked into my evil eyes, you still saw the good boy you grew up with. That fight scarred me for life. It was the last straw._

_That long slash that you left on my face...It was a reminder. It was the difference between your brother and Vaas. I tried to convince myself the old me was dead. I shaved my head, removed the Tatau, and did everything I could. I just wanted to forget you...and forget myself. What I forgot however was what I was doing, and who I was working for._

_But now, I write to you tell you that your brother is not dead. He was just buried; hidden under the shroud of Vaas Montenegro. There was always still good in me. And it haunted me. As much as I wanted to drive a bullet through your skull, the memory stopped me. It was the good within. The warrior forgotten. _

_I know at this point you will never forgive me. You hate my fucking soul. But I don't hate yours. And I am disgusted at myself to think that this all comes to my head just as Brody leaves me here to die. If you can't forgive Vaas, then at least try to remember your brother._

_Don't think of that mohawked monster, think of the honorable warrior that grew up beside you, and loved you with all his heart. He still does now that Vaas is dying. But unfortunately, as Vaas dies...I must die as well. Please remember us as two separate men, not one. I wish I could tell this to you in person, but you would never allow it. _

_I have one last wish for you as well. I look into Jason's eyes, and I see myself. I see him sliding intro darkness like me. I see what you are turning him into. I couldn't care if he was American, British or fucking Chinese. Don't cause yourself the same pain with him as you did with me. He is the first one to defeat me since you did, and he shares my violent hatred. He has escaped me many a time. He deserves to be free. Don't let Hoyt do to him what he did to me. Nobody deserves that._

_Anyway, I ask you this: Please remember your brother, not Vaas. He is your friend and family, and a true warrior buried. He still loves you, and thinks of you even as an assassin sent by you leaves his mangled body to bleed to death._

_With love, from your brother:_

_Servaas Talugmai, warrior of the Rakyat. _

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Jason slowly lowered the bloodstained letter and sighed. He then slowly turned to Dennis, who stood beside him, hands on hips. He studied Jason carefully, who bit his lip.

"So what do we do with it?" He asked in his usual, cool American accent.

"It's for Citra, yes?" Dennis questioned, and Jason replied with a nod.

Jason let out another sigh and tiredly sat down on a fallen tree trunk. They had returned to Vaas' compound to confirm he was actually dead, as well as destroy any surviving pirates or resources. Vaas was dead all right. But now, Jason started to question who his arch-nemesis really was. Was he a psychopath? Or did he only know the image present, rather than what was behind it? Was he a good man at one stage?

Jason shook off the thought. The son of a bitch killed his brother. So he had killed him. End of story. But the questions surrounding his mysterious background didn't seem to cease. Should he give this to Citra?

"Who wrote the letter?" Dennis asked, breaking the silence.

Jason shook his head.

"You're never going to believe this." He murmured, and folded the letter back up.

"Who, then?" Dennis persisted.

"Vaas."

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**Most of the story will be set before FC3, but I thought I'd give us an emotional start first. How was it to kick it off? Any good? Any ideas for the story are appreciated, I've got it pretty much planned out but you never know...One man can write a story, but two can write a legend. Anyway, don't forget to leave a review!**

**This has been JJZ-109, and have a nice day.**


	2. Like Brother Like Sister

**So here is Chapter 1- Back to when Vaas and Citra were mischievous kids. Trying to foreshadow as much as I possibly can. As you can see 'Vaas Montenegro' is not his real name, it was changed at some point. And this is well before the introduction of the pirates and privateers. Vaas is 10 here, and Citra is 8. Everyone seems to ask for a DLC based on Vaas' story, so I thought this was a good idea. Hope you enjoy!**

**CacoethesScribendi17: Don't know a think about Far Cry? That's an issue. Best game of 2012.**

**Pikalover10: Vaas became everyone's favorite character before the game was even released...Cheers! I hope not to disappoint. **

**Cheers: JJZ-109**

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**CHAPTER 1. LIKE BROTHER LIKE SISTER**

_North Rook Island._

_October 1995._

The warm, humid air flowed through the trees of the lush jungles of the Northern Rook Island. The breeze wasn't strong enough to move the trees, or even the dust, but it was enough to remind a person of the paradise they were in. The tropical forest buzzed with life, exotic birds let out their cries, insects chirped, and in the far distance the roar of a wild cat echoed. A brown dust road that ran through the middle separated the jungle, and not single particle of its dust moved. The jungle, the road, the warm sun and the entire island was at peace. Nothing could be heard other than the beautiful symphony of nature.

Slowly, that started to change. The small stones on the dusty road started to shake, and some of the insects went silent. Then came a rumble of motors, which slowly grew louder and louder.

Over the rise came a shiny looking 1994 Jeep Wrangler. It flew over the small hill, before it came crashing back down. The roar of the engine was accompanied by the enthusiastic screams of two children. Then over the rise two older vehicles followed, pursuing the runaway jeep. They sped across the jungle track, barely able to keep in touch with the newer, stolen vehicle before them.

The Jeep skidded around a corner, narrowly missing the wooden guardrail. It swerved to and fro on the road uncontrollably, as if a very inexperienced driver was driving it. And it was indeed.

The driver was a ten-year-old boy. He had his tongue out in joy as he sped along, while his eight-year-old sister sat next to him in the passenger's seat; half petrified. The boy had an average build for his age, and a full head of messy black hair. He wore a small white singlet and khaki shorts. The sister looked almost like a female equivalent of him, except slightly smaller and wore a neat little grey dress. And she wore a much more worried expression than her sibling.

"PULL OVER!" The Rakyat warriors driving the cars behind them called out.

"Never!" The boy yelled back over his shoulder. His sister put a hand on his shoulder.

"You should listen! This isn't fun any more..." She complained.

The boy shook his head in defiance and continued speeding down the road with a big cheesy grin.

"How is this failing to entertain you? A dare's a dare, sis!" The boy shouted and used his small young legs to stamp the accelerator down all the way.

The young Citra held onto the sides of her seat for dear life as she was thrashed about on the rocky road. Servaas, on the other hand, was standing in front of the steering wheel, as he wasn't yet tall enough to reach the pedals. And he was fearless.

"STOP NOW!" The Rakyat tailing them tried again, but Servaas ignored them.

They wouldn't tell him what to do. He was the chief's son; more important than them. As far as he was concerned, he could do what he wanted. And it was just a bit of fun anyway.

They rounded a corner, with the Rakyat still trying to catch them. It led them to a river...a dead end. Unless they wanted to sink the car. Servaas slammed on the brakes, right at the bank. It was almost too late, but fortunately the earth seemed to slope up right at the riverbank, which was unusual, but it helped them slow down. The jeep jerked to a halt, and so did the pursuing Rakyat vehicles behind them. Adrenaline was still pumping through Servaas' veins, so his head was frozen in place, with his eyes locked on the river ahead.

Citra panted, and quickly snapped her head around. The Rakyat were exiting their cars and storming over to them, infuriated. She was too scared to speak. What would their father think? She only managed to shake her brother's shoulder roughly to warn him.

"Oh...boy...now we're in trouble! Great! Thanks a lot 'Vaas." Citra whined.

Servaas ignored her, and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. His gaze was still locked on the river, and the bank on the other side. He eyed down the small slope that had helped them stop. It was a perfect ramp. But could they make that? The Rakyat wouldn't follow them. But if they failed, that was a waste of a $20,000 dollar car. And he would be in more trouble with his father than he could ever imagine.

His father was the chief of the Rakyat tribe, and his two children were his pride and joy. He always boasted how they will become great warriors one day, and be the next great leaders. They practically represented the Rakyat as a whole. That was why his father was so strict on them, leaving no mischief unpunished, and enforcing every tradition to the letter. He only contrasted against their mother, who was very calm, casual and kind. She was not part of the Rakyat though. She was Spanish, and foreigners were very rarely initiated. She may as well have been one though. She lived with the Rakyat, and mothered the two heirs to the tribe's leadership. Servaas had even absorbed her accent a little, as well as a few personalty traits.

Servaas had had enough of sitting there. Just as the men marched over to their jeep, he made up his mind. _Not today hermanos! _He literally stood on the accelerator, and the jeep lurched backwards, nearly making Citra fly through the windshield.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!"

When Servaas thought he had gone back enough, he slammed the stick shift back into gear and gave a wicked grin to the Rakyat members before them.

"Servaas...what are you doing? Don't even think..." Citra nagged but was quickly shut up as the jeep suddenly sprung forward towards the river, and to where the Rakyat warriors were standing on the bank.

"You're insane!" Citra called out in her childish voice above the roar of the engine.

"I know!" Servaas replied and didn't slow.

The Rakyat warriors stood their ground initially as the jeep blasted towards them, but soon, they realized Servaas wasn't going to swerve. They were forced to dive off the bank and into the river before they were run over. They splashed into the water just as the jeep soared up the slope and over the river. The chaotic mechanical whine was accompanied by the screams of children.

The jeep then crashed down on the other side of the river, leaving a group of tribesmen treading water in its wake. Servaas wasted no time and quickly gunned the car away. After a while of getting their breath back, Servaas broke the silence.

"We showed them, hey?"

"Yeah! Suckers! That was soo awesome..." Citra responded with a big smile on her face.

"Now you're having fun?" Servaas jabbed.

"Yeah...well I...um..."

"You were scared, weren't you?" Servaas accused immediately.

"Was not! We were going to be in trouble..." Citra argued.

"We still are. Papa's going to hear about this eventually you know?" At this Citra went all red.

"You took the car. You were driving. It was your fault." Citra folded her arms and turned her nose up at him.

"It was your idea! You dared me to! We get in trouble together." Servaas reminded her.

"And if I dared you to jump off a cliff?" Citra persisted with him, trying to keep herself innocent, but it was no use.

"I did that, remember? Lucky those trees were there." Servaas smirked as he replied. Lucky indeed, for half the mischief they got up to.

"You got caught by your underwear..." Citra giggled, remembering the incident.

They were both just too immature to avoid laughing at that. Servaas threw his head back laughing, and took his eyes of the track for a split second. That was all the time needed for a ten year old to mess up on the road.

_SMASH! _

Both of their heads jolted forwards with the impact, as the jeep slammed into a large boulder on the side of the road. When Servaas came to his senses, his stomach churned. That was it. He had just messed up big time. He had screwed up the jeep, and not just any jeep, it was the brand new one Mori had gotten as an initiation present.

Mori was a large, eighteen year old Rakyat warrior who had just been initiated. He was an oaf, almost 6'5, and very stocky. Even worse, he was very easily provoked. And not very smart. He was like the bully of the tribe, to an extent. This jeep had been all he spoke about for last few days, and was his prized possession. So the perfect dare among the tribe children turned to that. And Servaas was never one to shy away from a dare, or a challenge of any sorts.

The two kids quickly jumped out the car to inspect the damage. It was even worse off than they had through. The headlights were smashed, the grill was heavily dented inwards, and the bumper as well as the hood had been bent inwards completely. Citra had her hands over her mouth in shock. They had blown it big time. What they thought was a harmless prank, had turned out to be very costly.

"What's Papa going to do?" Citra gasped in fear.

"Forget Papa, Mori we should be worried about." Servaas told his sister, not taking his eyes off the damage.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between the two children, as they both contemplated the punishments. Most of the other dangerous and fun stunts they got up to they weren't found out (save when they steal sweets from the Amanaki General Store), but this one was way too obvious. And they would feel the heat for it.

Servaas then peeled the bent hood back, to see damage toll on the engine. Being a ten-year-old, he didn't know much about mechanics. But it should be obvious if there was any internal damage. They both peered inside the engine bay.

"Does it still work?" Citra asked, worried. Servaas was about to reply, but was cut off by another voice...

"_I hope for your sake it does..." _

The kids both spun around to face the new voice. When they saw who was behind them, their hearts skipped a beat. It was _him. _And he was with two of his friends.

Mori immediately grabbed Servaas' arm, and violently threw him away from the car. He didn't even have time to protest. Citra screamed as Mori's two goons grabbed her and started pulling her away while she kicked in protest. Mori decided to deal with Servaas himself.

"Soo...This was your doing, hey Vaas boy..." Mori taunted.

"It's _Servaas, _you stupid prick." Servaas spat at him. That was all the provocation Mori needed.

He picked Servaas up by his shirt, and threw him to the ground again much more aggressively.

"YOU WRECKED MY CAR YOU FOOL!" Mori shouted and threw a punch at Servaas, but he was too big and sluggish. Servaas rolled out of the way before it made impact.

He could still hear Citra's screams in the background as she was bullied. _Not MY sister you bastards..._Servaas thought quick and snapped his leg up to kick Mori in the groin. Mori cried out in pain, and doubled over. Before he could even straighten himself, Servaas had leapt to his feet and started rushing to his sister's aid.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!" He yelled out and delivered a decent blow between the eyes of Mori's first goon, and then stamped down on the foot of the other quickly. This was enough time for Citra to wriggle free.

Servaas ushered her away, and pushed her in the opposite direction to which they came. She didn't deserve this. He did.

"Go Citra! Get out of here! Run! NOW!" He motivated her, and sure enough Citra started running away from the incident.

"GO! Run Forrest...RUN!" Servaas couldn't help but quote that new movie he had seen a few weeks ago, despite the overly serious situation.

That was a virtue of Servaas Talugmai. He could find humor and enthusiasm in even the darkest of situations.

Soon it was apparent that Citra had escaped, and almost instantly Mori's two goons grabbed Servaas. They restrained both of his arms and forced him flat against the side of the car. Mori then approached, seething in anger. He cracked his knuckles and retracted his arm.

"Okay...this one...is for stealing my car." Mori said and rammed a powerful strike into Servaas' stomach.

It hurt that much that Servaas wanted to throw up.

"This one...is for wrecking my car..." Mori hit him in the same place he did before, and Servaas cried out in pain.

"And now...I'm going to make you pay in blood every dollar needed to fix that car..." Mori said, and struck him in the face.

Servaas' nose started to bleed, and his body ached, yet still...he kept that typical chaotic smile on his face. The boy just chuckled and spat the blood all over the bully's face. Mori had been driven to the end of his wits.

"YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY? I'LL KILL YOU!" He drew a tribal knife. Servaas knew he was just enraged, and wouldn't dare. Yet he was still scared at what else could be achieved with it...

He flinched as the weapon was raised. He closed his eyes, and waited for the pain. But they were interrupted.

"Gentlemen! What is going on here?" That voice was not familiar. And it sure as hell didn't sound like an Islander accent.

The beaten Servaas opened his eyes to see a Caucasian man in a red button-up shirt march over, flanked by two men. _Who the hell are they?_

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**Ooh, somebody's shown up...Who? Someone very important, I'll tell you that. Anyway, how was that? Don't worry, it won't be a kid's story. But every story has a beginning. If anyone has any questions or ideas they can tell/ask me in a PM or review. (Don't ask questions that'll spoil it, though). Don't forget to review, fave, subscribe and all that good shit.**

**This has been JJZ-109, and as always...Have a nice day.**


	3. First Encounter

**And here is Chapter 3. I promise this won't be a lovey dove kids story. It'll get dark eventually. And by the way...Servaas means 'Redeemed' or 'Saved' in Dutch. It is Vaas' original name. You'll see how it changes. BTW, this is _before _the Pirates or Privateers existed on the Islands. A familiar character makes his first appearance this chapter...**

**SickMonkey89: Cheers :)**

**Carrie: Nah, there's nothing really special about him. Servaas though...you are right. Greatest villain in gaming history.**

**Jazz: Thanks, I was going for that effect with the start :)**

**Cheers: JJZ-109**

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**CHAPTER 2. FIRST ENCOUNTER **

Servaas ached too much to let out a relieved exhale of air, but it was evident that he was grateful for the interruption. Through the tears stinging his eyes he was able to look over the man who had interfered. As sinister as the frown on his face was, he still was a saving angel in Servaas' eyes. Foreigner or not, he'd take any help he could get here.

The man that looked to be in charge was dressed mostly casually, cargo shorts and hiking boots were nothing out of the ordinary on the island, almost an unofficial dress code if anything. However, what set this man apart from anyone Servaas had seen that _wasn't _native was his red formal shirt, with the top button undone. It looked expensive, and Servaas was impressed by expensive things. His sunglasses and Rolex watch stood out as well. Despite the pain, Servaas found it hard not to stare. Mori and his two goons turned to face him.

"You go to hell, alien." Mori snapped, but the man didn't seem intimidated, even though Mori carried a large dagger.

"Alien? We are all from the same planet, yes?" The man retorted. Servaas could now identify the man as South African, judging from the accent.

"That's not the d-definition of alien." Mori argued, having trouble pronouncing 'definition'. It was clear the man was starting to note the lack of intelligence.

"Then what is the definition? You and your two friends would surely know, you do look like _civilized_ and educated young men." The man replied again, with sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

Mori tried to think of an answer, but looked lost. A cruel smile swept across the man's face. Meanwhile, Servaas studied the two men behind him. They too were Caucasian, and very, very tall and well built. They wore casual polo shirts and field trousers, as well as concealing sunglasses. Their faces were completely expressionless. Mentally Servaas thought of the result of a fight between the two parties, and realized that the foreigners would win. However, it would be a bad idea to hurt a tribesman. And Servaas couldn't justify it, as even though they did it in his defense, he had been in the wrong as well. Everybody loses here.

It took Mori a while to actually process that the foreigner had indirectly called him a savage, but he was too unintelligent to think of a comeback. The man continued.

"But then again...how civilized can you be when three young men beat a young boy?" The man paced in front of Mori, the cold smile since vanished. He studied the bruised form of Servaas.

"HEY! Look what he did to my car!" Mori gestured towards the damaged Jeep behind him.

"This was a fault of yours?" The man turned to Servaas for the first time.

"Yes sir. An accident." Servaas admitted.

"An accident..." The man repeated, and turned his glare towards Mori.

"You know...I had a father; a miner like myself. He was very cruel. Abusive. He would do exactly what you do to this boy now, for almost any mistake. Mistakes children do not know better to avoid. The boy you attack now...had made a child's mistake. And I know first hand how bad it is to receive that kind of treatment as a child." The man paced before the three tribe bullies as he spoke.

"Because of that reason...and because I am new to your native island...I will offer you a proposal. I will pay for the repair of your vehicle myself, on behalf of this boy." The man offered and flicked his head in the direction of Servaas.

"You'll pay? This is none of your business!" Mori said aggressively.

"Well if you must know, a lot of my business _will _be here on the island chain. So I hope to get off to a good start with you locals. Do we have a deal?" The man told them.

Mori bit his lip, and looked back at the wrecked car. It was hard to refuse that. He got the car fixed for free, and he wouldn't get into trouble with the chief for hurting his son. It was a win/win. He hesitated for a moment, before finally nodding reluctantly.

"Fine." He then spun around to face Servaas though. "But don't expect me to forget this soon." He warned the boy.

"Well I'm glad that's settled. We'll tow your Jeep back to Rook Point Camp, and you can collect it there in three days once it's repaired." The man said sharply, and with that, he turned on his heels and started marching back down the road, away from the scene.

Servaas looked down the track and saw an expensive looking black Range Rover parked on the roadside. His jaw dropped in awe. How could one person be so rich? He fought feelings of envy as he watched the three foreigners jump into their car, and start the motor. It gave off such a calm, clean, hum compared to all the vehicles he had ever ridden in. Was this the power of money? Or did all outsiders have such nice cars? Among the tribe it was very rare for an individual or family to own a vehicle. Most of the vehicles on the island were used for working purposes, or sometimes in the Rakyat's case...defense. They were the unofficial law enforcement on the island, and sometimes a jeep or 4WD was very handy.

Servaas felt himself collapse to the ground, with his back sliding down the side of the wrecked Jeep. He watched painfully as Mori and co jogged away into the jungle, leaving him there by himself. He had to be careful, he couldn't stay there for long otherwise the scent of blood would attract predators. But that was another problem. He ached too much to walk. He felt his head fall back against the metal, and a tear slowly slide down his face. He tried not to cry. His father told him it was a sign of weakness, especially for the child of the chief. But it was too much to ask of any 10 year old. Tears blurred out his vision as he sat there.

Through the blurred image before him, he saw a large black shadow pull to a halt on the road in front of him. It was followed by the sound of tires slowly crunching the dirt beneath them, as the car came to a halt. Servaas rubbed away the tears and had a proper look. It was the Range Rover, and it had stopped right next to him. Curiously the back window rolled down.

"Are you okay out there by yourself?" It was the man who had 'saved' him before. He had his sunglasses lowered.

"I think so." Servaas managed to say in a croaky voice.

"What nonsense. Hurry and get in the car before an animal finds you." The man ordered and opened the door.

Servaas nodded feebly and painfully pushed himself to his feet. His head and torso throbbed in pain as he made them move. He limped over to the Range Rover and the man grabbed his arm, helping the injured young boy to get in. He had moved over to make room for him. He then reached across and pulled the heavy door shut behind Servaas. The two large men sat in the front, one driving for them.

Servaas didn't know whether to feel privileged or relieved to be riding in this car. Or maybe even alarmed. Accepting random rides from strangers wasn't a brilliant idea on the island. Kidnappers, people smugglers, and criminals had been known to occasionally flee to the Rook Islands to escape punishment, and then continue their work there. But the Rakyat were very wary of that, and usually rooted them out before they became an issue.

Servaas looked over at his Good Samaritan. He was obviously wealthy and new to the island chain, but there seemed to be something about his presence that commanded respect. And the fact that Servaas felt that meant something. Usually he only reserved respect and politeness to family or tribal elders. The man looked at him slowly, and studied him. Servaas felt oddly vulnerable because he couldn't see the man's eyes, which was where his mother had told him one could learn the most about a person from a glance.

"So boy, do you have a name?" The man questioned him.

"Yes. Servaas Talugmai." Servaas rasped.

"Ah...Servaas. A Dutch name. Very nice. It means 'saved'. What a strange coincidence huh?" Servaas nodded dumbly. The man took off his glasses, and revealed to Servaas the true extent of his frown.

"Because I tell you this. I won't be 'saving' you again. You cost me a lot of money today. Taking a car for a joyride? At your age that is not a child's mistake, it is bloody stupid and borderline insane. Especially here." The South African man sneered.

"Sorry...you didn't have to..." Servaas mumbled, and went a little red.

"Yes I did. I want to try to be friends with you natives, but I find it really hard to work with anyone that condones what I saw just now. If we are that different, then money is the only favor I can offer." Servaas hung his head, and tried not to make eye contact with the foreigner. He was too frightened to thank him.

They drove on in silence, with Servaas trying to look in the opposite direction of the man sitting beside him. _Papa is going to kill me..._Servaas thought. After a few minutes, the man broke the awkward silence in the car.

"Where do you need to be dropped off?" He asked quickly.

"Here is good." Servaas murmured, and the man nodded. The Rumah Temple was less than a hundred meter walk from where they were at the moment.

"Right. Windsor...stop the car." The man ordered his driver.

The Range Rover slowly rolled to a halt, and the South African man opened the door for Servaas. He slowly slid out, and turned to face the man. Without another word, the man slammed the door shut and the car sped off down the dirt road. Servaas watched them disappear around a corner and sighed. _Here we go..._Servaas thought as he started to slowly limp into the jungle. The wrath of his father was not far away. Odds were he would sour the feast and celebrations that night.

After a while of jungle trekking, a large stone wall came into view, as well as grand gate flanked by rows of flaming torches that led to it. Topless Rakyat warriors armed with machetes guarded the entrance. When Servaas approached, they snapped into a formal stance and held their blades firm across their chest as a mark of respect to the chief's son. They were no longer concerned about whether or not the boy came come with bruises and cuts, it was almost a normality for Servaas.

Servaas eyes them down, and despite the fear he felt (of what was to come) or the depression, he stopped before them, before quickly simulating a low-aimed, aggressive move. The guard quickly bent down to block, and tensed himself for the impact of the blow as if Servaas was actually about to hit him.

"Gets you every time, man." Servaas told him with a weak grin as he continued past them. The warrior shook his head and ignored him.

As Servaas entered the main courtyard of the Home temple, he quickly checked left and right to see if his father was in the vicinity. _No...coast clear..._He thought and slowly walked forward. Everyone in the courtyard looked up at him, and stared for a brief moment. _Great...they know. _Servaas bowed his head and went red again. He limped to the side, so that the attention could be diverted somewhere else.

The courtyard was being prepared for the feast that night. It had been cleaned, and was buzzing with activity. The scent of food being prepared ran strong in the air, as well as a strong smell of ceremonial incense, burning in small silver plates scattered around the courtyard. Many people were also busy setting up decorations. The feast was in celebration of the warrior defeated the giant thousands of years ago, who the Rakyat, according to legend at least, descended from. It was a very prestigious event in Rakyat culture. And not a great day to be getting into trouble with the chief. Servaas wished he'd thought about this more before he'd pulled that stunt.

"Servaas!"

Servaas spun around, fearing his father storming towards him. In fact it was quite the opposite to that. It was his mother, a much warmer and compassionate person in comparison to her husband. She may not be an official member of the Rakyat due to her being Spanish, but the Island community treated her as if she was. She was considered a symbol of peace by natives and outsiders alike. She was the first foreigner to marry a tribesman, and the chief of all people. Her name was Inez Talugmai.

"Servaas! _Mi niño..._What have you done to yourself?" She hurried over to her young son and crouched before him.

She inspected his injuries and dusted him off. Servaas rolled his eyes in embarrassment and quickly pulled himself away from his fretting mother.

"Oh no Mamá...leave me alone, ah?" Servaas complained.

"What happened? How did you do this?" The string of questions continued until a young voice interrupted them.

"Servaas! Papa wants to talk to you!" Citra called out from behind them.

"Go away Citra! I don't want to talk to him!" Servaas snapped at her.

Inez gently cuffed him on the back of the head and glared at her son.

"Don't speak to your hermana like that! Now you go to Papa...and you talk with him about whatever you did this time. Be truthful and respectful, comprende?" Servaas nodded.

"_Si Mamá." _

"Good boy. Now go see Papa." Servaas sighed and slowly walked towards one of the entrances to the temple corridors.

He gently pushed past Citra and gulped as he did so. _Here we go..._

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**How was that? Bit of explanation behind the Spanish accent. Vaas takes after his mother, and Citra after her father (Who we'll meet next chapter) Any ideas for a good name for a tribal leader? This was Vaas' first encounter with his future master...Anyway, don't forget to review, have sub and all that good shit.**

**This has been JJZ-109, and as always...Have a nice day.**


	4. Legend of The Black Mountain

**Here's chapter 4 guys, where we are introduced to Vaas and Citra's father. I'm sorry for all those who suggested names, but after doing a little background work and planning ahead, I settled on one. He will be very significant to Vaas's downfall later on. This little legend I came up with, following in from the legend Citra tells Jason. Apparently the Rakyat have a feast to commemorate that.**

**Jazz: Thanks! I've settled on a name BTW.**

**SickMonkey89: Hoyt adorable? Are you insane? Don't answer that. I've found one now, no probs. :) I'm going more for Indonesian or Papua New Guinea with my stuff rather than Polynesian/Hawaiian. **

**Cheers: JJZ-109**

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**CHAPTER 3. LEGEND OF THE BLACK MOUNTAIN**

Servaas all of a sudden felt considerably colder as he entered the Rumah temple's insides. Not just because of the insulation, but also because of what he feared was coming. His father didn't have a reputation with tolerance, especially with him for some reason. It almost frustrated him how Citra could practically get away with murder and he was constantly punished. And from the looks of it, Citra had gotten off again. Otherwise she would still be in his father's lair and they would be scolded together.

Servaas felt incredibly stupid now. He had picked the wrong day to pull that sort of stunt. The feast of the warrior day wasn't a wise choice. It was one of his favorite days of the year. And he didn't want to miss out on anything. He turned into the darker section of the temple - the 'traditional' half. The one that hadn't been restored or fitted with electricity and proper lighting. It was a sacred section they hadn't allowed to be altered. Servaas doubted that without the Papua New Guinea Government's brief intervention, none of the temple would be changed. He tried to ignore the sinister ancient paintings on the walls. It seemed like all those eerie eyes were glaring directly at him.

Eventually he came to the wooden door that marked the residence of the tribe leader - his father. He tapped his knuckles on it and waited for a few moments anxiously. A deep, Rakyat accented voice broke out from inside.

"_Enter." _

Servaas exhaled loudly before slowly pushing the door open, and sheepishly slinking inside the chamber. His muscle-bound father stood behind his desk, and before him, the three bullies were on their knees. Servaas tried to avoid eye contact as his father looked him over. There was nothing more intimidating than his gaze. He was huge, and powerful. He had the usual tanned skin for an islander, and hardly ever wore a shirt. His chest was covered by the ceremonial tattoos of the warrior, and those that marked him as royalty and sacred. His strong, square jawline jutted out as per usual. Shoulder length black hair was tied behind his head. His frightening image was often what mostly contributed to the respect he was given. Kejam Talugmai was his name, a man every person on the island respected. Or feared.

"You are dismissed." Kejam said sharply to the three bullies. They didn't need to be told twice. They instantly got to their feet and made for the door.

Servaas heard the door creak shut behind them. He cowered as he felt his father turn his glare down onto him again.

"You...here." Kejam instructed and Servaas casually stepped towards him.

He then slowly looked up, into his father's menacing green eyes. Servaas forced his usual smile.

"_Holá Papa." _He greeted Kejam.

"Don't speak to me in that tongue your mother has taught you. You will talk to me in either English or the language of our people, understand?" Kejam snapped.

"Yes..._Dad._" Servaas corrected himself almost sarcastically. He never addressed him as _Dad._

"Very well...You know why you are here, yes?" Kejam started to pace before his son.

"Yes Papa."

"And what the hell did you think you were doing, huh? You think you can drive? You're a _child. _You have no right to endanger the life of both of the heirs to the throne!" Kejam wasn't raising his voice, but he may as well have. The anger and disgust was pretty obvious.

"You mean _heir? _Sorry I won't take Citra with me next time." Servaas sneered. His father gave him a light slap on the face.

"Don't give me lip! And you know as well as I that is trash Servaas...I love you both as equals and you both have a chance of being selected as the next great leader." Servaas rolled his eyes, and Kejam didn't bother scolding him. He knew the expression too well.

"And what bothers me more about what you did...Is that you stole and damaged a Rakyat warrior's property...Do you _intend _to ruin my image Servaas?" Kejam growled, continuing the lecture.

"No. And it was a dare Papa. Citra dared me to. Why doesn't she get in trouble, ah?" Servaas tried to point out.

"And if Citra 'dared' you to jump off a cliff would you do it?"

"Yeah..." Servaas mumbled, trying to hold back a grin. _Already done that._

Kejam shook his head, not having time to say 'Don't answer that'. He turned away from his son and studied the ancient paintings on his stone walls.

"I have already received all the different versions of this incident, Servaas. So I don't want to hear yours. To punish you..." _Oh great here we go... _Servaas thought as his father continued to look at the paintings.

"I would have you miss out on the ceremony tonight. However...tradition strictly states that participation is necessary for all the people of the Rakyat. Especially the heirs to leadership. So that cannot happen." Kejam told him, and Servaas had to restrain himself from sighing out loud in relief. _Thank you... _His father's obsession with tradition saved him.

"My second idea was that I have you work to get every cent required to fix Mori's car." Servaas flinched.

"But that can't happen either now. Apparently there was an intervention...from an outsider. What of this?" Kejam turned back to his son, and slowly started walking back towards him, inviting him to speak.

"Well...a man showed up just as Mori pulled a knife on me, and -" He was cut off.

"Mori pulled a knife on you?" Kejam interrupted.

"Yes. He didn't say that, did he?" Kejam shook his head. Servaas almost smirked. _Oh they're in for it now..._He thought. Kejam wouldn't stand for that.

"Anyway...he said he's new here, and is starting business. He offered to pay for the damage so I wouldn't get hurt any more." Kejam nodded.

"He's said he's starting business...he could be one of the white demons..." Kejam thought aloud. 'White demons' referred to any foreigner that attempted to take refuge in the island so they could carry out criminal activities. Not uncommon.

"No, he's not. He's way too rich. You should have seen his car, Papa. And his clothes. He mentioned something about mining, I think." Servaas told him, thinking about that very man. The feeling of envy began to resurface.

"What was he like?" Kejam questioned warily. Corporations had tried mining on the Islands before, and there had been several incidents that weren't exactly favorable.

"White man. Normal height, dark brown hair. He is South African I think, his voice sounds like it. He seems friendly enough, but he was annoyed. He says that he wants to work together with the Rakyat and build a friendship."

"A friendship you say...Hmm...We should be cautious of people like him." Kejam had to pick his words carefully. His wife was Spanish: a foreigner. So his otherwise hatred of 'aliens' on the island had to be contained, and he had to watch his words and policies.

"Okay Servaas...this is what is going to happen. You are going to seek this man and thank him for helping you, on behalf of our people. And you will personally ask him what you can do to make up for what you've cost him, understood? That can be your punishment. I'm going easy on you this time." Kejam instructed him, and Servaas nodded. He couldn't believe his luck. Everything he feared wasn't going to be. He was free to participate in the feast, Mori didn't beat him to death, and his father's anger was strangely contained - probably due to the occasion.

"Yes Papa. Thank you." Servaas almost jumped for joy.

"Good. I'll speak to you next at the feast tonight, son." Kejam motioned for him to leave.

Servaas, despite his limp, almost pranced towards the door. Kejam's voice then broke out again behind him as he opened it.

"And son..."

"Yeah?"

"Behave. Please. Great Uncle Dukan has some special stories for tonight." Kejam instructed Servaas.

Servaas nodded before happily exiting the chief's chamber. _Whoa that was lucky..._He thought as he made his way back out into the courtyard with a spring in his limp. As he went outside, Citra immediately joined him at his side.

"So are you in trouble?" She asked innocently.

"Yeah. Not as much as I thought though. I'm okay for tonight." He said with a small grin, which she returned.

_A few hours later..._

The Feast of the Warrior had begun. Music rung out throughout the entire Rumah temple, and several traditional Rakyat dances were performed in the center, on a stone platform. They either gracefully moved to tell Rakyat legends through dance, or they just danced to traditional (or even Pop/Rock, to the people's delight) songs. Several masks and paintings were hung around the courtyards, in celebration. Candles in lanterns of various colors lit up the space, as well as the great fires cooking the food for the feast. Only the greatest Boar, Shark and Birds were selected to be cooked.

The whole temple buzzed with activity, and beat with positive energy. It was all in commemoration of 'The Great Warrior' who, according to legend, founded the Rakyat tribe thousands of years ago. He was the one who had slain the Great Giant, whose body had become their Island chain. His descendants were the Rakyat.

Servaas decided to keep to himself that evening, taking his father's advice about 'behaving'. He still managed to enjoy himself though, when it came to the dancing and food. His favorite food was the Shark. It was in his opinion, the most powerful animal the Rakyat ate. He felt the power in his mouth as he tasted and chewed it. He loved power.

Soon, it came to one of the most important parts of the evening. It all seemed to go too fast for Servaas; due to his 'behavior' he had not really gotten as involved as he would have. It was time for the Shamanic Rituals. Every annual Feast, the wise tribe Shaman would appear at night and attend to the fire, while sharing lessons and legends.

Everyone formed a great circle around the massive fire, but left a gap for the Shaman to walk through. It was Servaas' Great Uncle Dukan, the wisest and most spiritual member of the entire Rakyat. He raised a wrinkled hand, and instantly the people went quiet. They all went silent as he hobbled over to the fire, speaking poetics in the ancient Rakyat language. Few could understand it. He tosses small handfuls of seeds on the fire as he circled it, chanting.

"What's he going to talk about tonight?" Citra whispered to her brother.

"I don't know. Papa said it was something we hadn't heard before." Servaas replied quietly, and motioned for her to pay attention.

Dukan's chanting ceased. He turned back around to face the people, walking around the circle so he could see all of them.

"We are gathered here today, to celebrate the slaying of the Giant, at the hands of an ancient Warrior we call our Great Father. It was those events which let us exist here today." Dukan boomed in English. _Yeah, right. They're just legends you old idiot. They're not real._ Servaas thought to himself.

"We know these events well enough, yes. But what none of us know...are the events that followed. The birthing of the Rakyat was not so simple. The future was not as rosy. This...My people! Is the legend of the Black Mountain..." Servaas' attention had been caught. He hadn't heard of that one before.

The people exchanged murmurs, and Citra nudged Servaas, who shrugged in response. They all listened, fascinated. Dukan grabbed a handful of some powder in a rucksack he carried, and tossed it onto the great fire in the center. Suddenly, to everyone's awe, the flames rushed higher and created a swirling pattern of smoke above them. A strange scent was also released by the flames, and it filled Servaas' nostrils. He started to feel a little lightheaded, as the story seemed to commence in his mind.

"_There was the Great Warrior, the one who we know for cutting off the Giant's head, the one who founded our tradition, the one whose greatest kill created the land on which we live off today."_

As the booming words left Dukan's mouth, Servaas visualized the great warrior. He looked strong and proud, like his father almost. Eerie smoke lines the edges of his form.

"_When the Giant's head and body came crashing down to form the Islands, the Warrior stood proud. He stood upon the slain beast's head and proclaimed himself the Great King of the new Islands. He founded our people, he taught them the way of the warrior. Our way. Our life." _

More murmurs broke out, and Dukan pulled out a fistful of some grain. He tossed it into the flames.

"_The Great King had two children: heirs to his throne. One graceful and traditional, the other strong and cunning. They were both growing to be Great warriors, both worthy of his succession. However...Despite the Giant being dead...his spirit still lived on in the island his body formed."_

Servaas imagined two great young Warriors hunting, while the King watched them proudly. Then the mysterious swirls of smoke lapping at their feet...

"_One day...The evil spirit of the Giant appeared before one of the King's children while he hunted. The cunning and strong one. It gave him false promises by tempting him with power, wealth and respect. That was all the temptation the prince needed. His heart was consumed by greed and madness."_

Servaas saw the silhouette of the lone warrior be consumed by swirls of smoke, and when they cleared, it revealed a completely black figure, with glowing yellow eyes.

"_He laid waste to the Island...he pillaged it. He exploited it. He enslaved our people. He burnt down entire forests and temples...of which there are still some remains today. His evil was complete when he thrust his dagger straight through the heart of our Great Father, slaying him!" _

Gasps broke out from the people. Servaas envisioned the Dark Warrior beating down trees and enemies with an oversized fist, while the shadow around him started slowly growing larger and larger.

"_After this was done, the other of the King's children, decided to resist their brother's wickedness. They fought with courage, with pride, and with the spirit of our people strong in their heart. He defeated the Dark Warrior then and there!"_

Collective fascinated murmurs broke out again, and Servaas watched in pain as the two figures sparred with what looked like knives. One was glowing light, and the other had shadows and smoke surrounding his form. The dark one was soon knocked backwards, and the light one slashed him across the face, leaving a glowing red gash.

"_He was about to slay his dark brother, but when he looked into his eyes, he did not see the monster he was. He still saw his brother before his mind was poisoned. He could not bring himself to kill him. Instead, as punishment, he used all the magic available to him, and turned his wicked brother into a Great Black Mountain in the heart of the island; where he would stay for thousands of years to come. The new King created a prophecy...That one day, a new warrior would come to the islands. A warrior as white as snow. He would set the soul of the fallen brother free! He would free him of the black insanity and restore peace to the island forevermore!" _

Dukan shouted the last parts out, and Servaas' eyes snapped open. He panted, and looked around him. For some reason he felt extremely insecure. Almost threatened by something. But what was there to be worried about? Nothing.

"The Black Mountain remains there to this day. And he still awaits redemption at the hands of the White Warrior, who is yet to arrive." Dukan finished, and chatter broke out amongst the people again.

Now that the legend was over, Servaas decided to get up and have some water. Perhaps wash up. Maybe it would make feel less on edge.

That story of _The Black Mountain _really disturbed him for some reason, as if it had some sort of immediate significance. He shook off the feeling.

" _El Montaña negro..." _Servaas repeated it to himself in Spanish, as he wandered off from the ceremony.

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**How was that? A little bit of foreshadowing, eh? I wonder what significance that legend has to Servaas...Hmm... Anyway, I hope you're enjoying so far. Don't forget to Review, sub, fave and all that good shit.**

**This has been JJZ-109, and as always...have a nice day.**


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